Kathryn Caskie (26 page)

Hannah looked up at Griffin, and had opened her mouth to speak, when Griffin took her elbow with one hand and raised his glass with the other. “To our wedding,” he said.

“You see, I knew it, Letitia,” Lady Viola twittered happily. “Oh, this is delightful. Simply the best of news!”

The gathering raised their glasses in the air cheerfully as Griffin leaned in to press a chaste kiss onto Hannah’s cheek.

The couple had just lifted their goblets to drink, when Garnet waved a hand in the air. “Just one moment. There is more. To
our
wedding.” He tipped his head at Miss Howard, who blushed becomingly.

“Oh, jolly good.” Lady Letitia clapped her hands excitedly. “We have two reasons to make merry this morn!”

Glasses were raised again, but before anyone would take that much anticipated sip, Lady Viola came to her feet and cleared her throat. The goblets held, poised before everyone’s mouths.

The frail old woman took the tray from Mr. Edgar and set it on the table. She reached down and lifted a glass of wine and handed it to the wrinkled, ancient manservant. Warily he took it from her, appearing almost embarrassed.

Lady Viola could not have had a prouder expression on her face when she raised her own glass. “And to
our
wedding.”

“Hear, hear!” Hannah cheered, a sentiment echoed by everyone in the room—except, curiously, the earl.

Hannah saw his eyes shifting this way and that . . . as though he was deep in consideration. “This is a grand celebration to be sure,” she began. “Let us toast, now, to
three
weddings.”

The earl’s eyes began to bulge in his head. “N-no-o.
Four!
”

Lady Letitia slapped her hand to her chest. “What ever do you mean, my lord?” She edged herself forward on the settee. Anticipation and excitement were bright in her eyes.

“F-four weddings. Did everyone not hear me? I am sure I spoke loudly enough, and I do not mumble.” Then he tried to bend down onto one knee, but he staggered and could not accomplish it no matter how hard he tried. “Pinkerton! Assistance, please.”

The earl’s man, in his jet-black attire, hurried into the room from the shadows of the passage where he had waited and took the earl’s arm as the rotund old man lowered his knee to the floor. The earl reached his free hand outward and took Lady Letitia’s plump hand into his.

“My time left on this earth, my dear lady, is short,” he began somberly.

Pinkerton cleared his throat, and Hannah doubted she was the only one who saw him roll his dark eyes after the earl’s comment.

“What I mean is that I wish to spend those days with
you,
Lady Letitia. Not a minute has passed since we met that I have not mused about how happy I would be were you at my side. I dream of walking along the lake at Devonsfield together, entertaining in the grand style in which you are clearly accustomed, planning my funeral . . .”

Lady Letitia, whose round face had been beaming with happiness, pulled a sudden sour expression.

Pinkerton nudged the earl’s back with his knee.

“Oh, forgive me. I said
funeral
. I meant
wedding,
of course.” The earl gazed up into Lady Letitia’s pale blue eyes. “Will you marry me, Lady Letitia? Say you will.”

Tears trickled down Lady Letitia’s face, cutting deep tracks through her bounteous powder. “I will, my lord. I will!” She leaned her substantial weight forward on the settee, making the back legs buck up, and kissed the earl’s cheek.

“Now we will truly have something to celebrate,” Griffin announced. “
Four
weddings!”

“. . . and a funeral,” Pinkerton intoned quietly beneath his breath. “Mustn’t forget that.”

Hannah chuckled into her palm, when suddenly Miss Howard meekly spoke up, shifting everyone in the drawing rooms attention.

“So, my lord,” she began quietly, “now that both Messrs. St. Albans are to be married . . . which is to be the heir?”

The earl’s gaze fixed on Griffin at once, who shook his head so little that his message was nearly imperceptible.

“I believe I shall have to give this a bit of thought, Miss Howard, for I had not foreseen such an improbable outcome to my challenge.
Both
Messrs. St. Albans betrothed on the same day. Who would have thought it possible. Rest assured though, my dear lady, I shall announce my decision very soon. Perhaps even on the morrow.”

Hannah heard Griffin exhale disappointedly, which seemed quite an odd reaction for someone who might soon be named heir.

The earl’s decision did not come on the morrow. Or with the week. In truth, it was a full sennight later when he invited both of the St. Albans brothers, the Featherton sisters, Miss Howard, Mr. Edgar, and Hannah to Devonsfield for the much-anticipated announcement of the earl’s heir.

Devonsfield was perhaps one of the largest mansions Hannah had ever seen. While the main house must have been at least two hundred years in age, a columned facade had been added of late, adding to the grandeur of the stately home. Two waterways crossed the parklike grounds, littered with follies, and falls of water, and a magnificent boxwood maze.

Annie busied herself with hanging gowns in the ancient wardrobe in the chamber Hannah had been assigned for her stay.

“Well, if you don’t mind my sayin’, I hope Mr. Griffin don’t win this little contest of the earl’s. I couldn’t bear to think of you livin’ here all secluded-like in this musty old place. You should go to London. That’s what I would do. I’d go to the theater, and maybe to Almack’s. I bet those old patroness dragons would let you in, seein’ as how you are practically kin to the Featherton ladies and all.”

Hannah gazed out the expansive window and across the endless lawn. “That would be just fine with Griffin. He wants nothing more than to study the stars.” She turned around and looked at Annie.

Annie paused and stared blankly up. “What was that, Miss Hannah?”

Hannah realized the lady’s maid had not paid any heed to what she had said.

“You know, Miss Hannah, it likely doesn’t matter a lick what Mr. Griffin wants. It’s Fate, I say. Every time the Feathertons get it fixed in their heads that someone should marry, they end up a peeress of some sort.” She sighed deeply. “Maybe I should I ask for another wardrobe. There is no way this one will hold all your frocks when the earl meets his maker and you are forced to come and live in this old place.”

“This one will be sufficient, Annie.”

Annie handed a pelisse to Hannah. “They are boarding the carriages now. Are you ready for the outing?”

“Indeed. Though I must gather up Cupid first.” Hannah took the silk-lined cape from Annie and started for the passage. She cast a parting glance out the window at the bright, sunny day, then turned and manufactured a perfectly suitable smile. “The day could not be more perfect for the earl’s announcement.”

Hannah saw a wrinkle of concern on Annie’s forehead.

“Wish us good favor,” Hannah said as she entered the passage. “We can certainly use it.”

Hannah settled Cupid on a low branch near the folding table that had been set up for their supper beside the lake. She twined his tether once around the branch, then tugged off her long leather glove and sat down on the coverlet that had been laid across the grass. Griffin lifted a juicy berry from the bowl between them and popped it into Hannah’s mouth.

Spring had finally arrived. The air was warm, the sun bright, making this, most certainly, the most comfortable day of the year.

Mr. Edgar sat stiffly beside Lady Viola before the table, clearly uncomfortable in his new role as a lady’s betrothed rather than her servant. His critical gaze followed the Devonsfield footmen as they served each course, and Hannah observed him nearly leap from his chair on two occasions to correct the placement of a bowl or to dab away a spot of soup that had dripped from the serving ladle.

Lady Viola, however, was beaming. She simply could not have been happier. For two weeks now, she and her sister had been planning a huge four-couple wedding at Bath Abbey, complete with hothouse lavender bouquets and silken lavender swatches draped from column to column.

They had, not once, bothered to ask Hannah or Miss Howard if a profusion of lavender or a group wedding suited, but honestly, it did not matter in the least to Hannah. All that mattered was that in two weeks’ time she would be married to the man she loved.

Lady Letitia noticed Hannah’s dreamy gaze. “Hannah, dear, did I tell you I received a letter from your brother, Arthur? Now, I know you mother’s condition prevents her from leaving her home, and therefore she cannot attend the wedding. That’s why you will be ever so excited to hear Arthur’s news!”

Hannah straightened. “Arthur wrote to you? What did the letter say?”

A huge smile crossed Lady Letitia’s plump face as she prepared to divulge the information.

“Sister,”
Lady Viola admonished, “you were supposed to keep the contents of his letter a surprise!”

“
Oh, dear.
You are correct, sister.” Lady Letitia’s brows arched sadly. “Never mind, Hannah.”

“You can’t simply tell me my brother has written with some wonderful news, then refuse to tell me all about it!” Hannah narrowed her eyes playfully at the two old women. “You are being most wicked, you know.”

Lady Letitia looked to her sister, and they had one of those silent twin discussions. “Very well. Arthur is no longer in India. He is in Glasgow at the moment, and plans to arrive in Bath for a visit not two days before the wedding celebration. Two!”

“So . . . he would not have received the letter I posted to India.” Hannah’s brows rose. “He could not know of my wedding.”

“You have the right of things.” Lady Viola grinned. “He will be ever so surprised!”

A spiked chill raced up Hannah’s spine. “But what if he doesn’t approve of my marrying Mr. St. Albans? He is the head of our family now. He could ruin everything!”

The earl loudly swallowed a wedge of cold beef, then sipped from his teacup. “I’ve already taken precautions, my dear. He will not refuse Mr. St. Albans.”

“Precautions?” Griffin asked. “What sort of precautions?”

“Monetary, if you must know,” the earl said matter-of-factly. “Upon your marriage—both yours and Garnet’s—you will both become rather wealthy.” The earl slapped the table and laughed. “Oh, let us call it correctly, shall we? You will be—
rich
men.”

“W-what do you mean?” Garnet leaned over the table toward the earl. “How rich?”

“Rich enough. I have arranged for each of you to be bestowed fifteen thousand per annum, until my passing. Then you shall receive twenty-two thousand per annum . . . indefinitely.”

Cupid screeched and Pinkerton, who likely had been poking at the bird, stumbled from beside the tree, muttering a string of oaths.

“Tell them, Pinkerton. Tell the lads of my financial state,” the earl demanded. “You know it better than I, after all.”

“Yes, my lord. The earl is certainly one of the wealthiest gentlemen in the realm. His family has long been involved with the production and distribution of brandy. You needn’t fret about your income, ever again.”

The earl snorted. “There you have it.”

Hannah and Griffin turned and stared at each other in utter amazement. The earl had always lived so frugally, dressed so simply, that Hannah had always assumed he was guinea poor, though title and property rich.

By the stunned looks on Garnet’s and Griffin’s faces, they had obviously made the same assumption.

Likely hearing the word “brandy,” Mrs. Hopshire, the St. Albans brothers’ longtime housekeeper, appeared at the head of the table with a decanter of amber spirits. “Would you be wanting some brandy, Garn—, I mean, Mr. St. Albans?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hopshire.” Garnet winked at her.

The old housekeeper smiled excitedly, happy, as always, to make herself useful. She had admitted to Annie, back at the house, that today was a special treat for her. Not only had she been asked to accompany the brothers to Devonsfield, but she’d been asked to join them at the outing, where she would be witness to the naming of the heir.

But Griffin and Garnet would have had it no other way. She had practically raised the twins after their mother’s death, and Griffin had admitted to Hannah that both he and his brother thought of Mrs. Hopshire as a dear member of the family rather than their lone servant.

Just then, a bee began to circle Hannah’s straw bonnet, seemingly drawn to the two flowers Annie had pinned upon its satin band. Hannah raised her hand into the air and swatted and waved at the marauder until she just brushed it.

Cupid, noting the movement of his mistress’s hand bent forward, readied for flight. He began to screech and tug at his tether.

“No, Cupid!” Hannah called out as the bee circled her head one last time, then lit off for the table. Hannah watched as it landed on the silken hollyhock adornment on Lady Letitia’s new Cambridge dress hat.

Hannah leaped to her feet, pointing her finger in warning at the old woman’s hat. “There’s a bee! Lady Letitia—on your hat!”

“Oh, goodness!” Lady Letitia jumped out of her chair and hurriedly untied the bonnet and tore it off her head. She shook the bonnet in the air, but the bee clung to it. “Someone get it off—get it off, please!”

Cupid launched from the branch, and the tether slipped loose. The bird’s keen eyes focused on Hannah’s pointing finger, then the bonnet waving in the air. He gave a piercing scream, then swooped for the bonnet.

Cupid’s sharp talons snatched up Lady Letitia’s hat on the first pass, then the falcon flew out over the lake.

“My new bonnet!” Lady Letitia shrieked, looking pleadingly at Hannah. “Do something,
please
. Tell your falcon to bring it back.”

The earl stumbled from his folding chair, knocking it backward and causing it to snap shut. “Here now, you blasted bird.” He trotted down to the water’s edge and waved his short arms at Cupid. “Bring it back. Bring it back at once, or I shall have Pinkerton shoot you down!”

“My lord,” Pinkerton said, quick on the earl’s heels, “I have no rifle.”

The earl turned and gave his man a most annoyed look. “But the
bird
doesn’t know that, you fool!”